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this one
always arrives at the wrong time
 
a basically good sort
I suppose
an honest man
 
but he doesn’t take the 8 count
well
 
we’re all beaten
but somehow
it’s the manner in which he takes the count
 
after a visit from him
I am sickened for 3 or 4 days
 
I give him board and shelter and sometimes
money
but how he snarls and bitches
sucking at my cans of beer
 
if he expects deliverance in return for what he gives
he isn’t going to get deliverance
because he doesn’t give anything
 
no light
no love
no laughter no learning
nothing to
remember
 
the way of this one sickens me
he brings me sorrow when I have sorrow
he brings me madness when I have madness
 
I am a selfish man
 
over his last sweaty handshake
I told him I could carry him no longer
 
now when my soul has to puke
it will puke of its own
volition
and not from a
knock upon the
door.
Other works by Charles Bukowski...



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